Decisions are always scary even if they often take me to much safer places for the mere act of choosing, among the endless list of possibilities, carries with it a dose of energy that enhances fortitude. Strength does no leave me when hard times pester me, when a long string of frustrations shadows my hopes. Their dreadful effects last just a few hours, but I decide to give them power or to diminish them to specks of dust; ignored and abandoned to their fate, they have no choice but flying away with their lethal load of fear and negativism. I do not allow anguish to lounge in my soul; once settled down, a fortress of misery and terror would be framed to deprive me of hope. If negative emotions are permitted to find a cozy corner, they enclose the land of opportunities and suffocate all glimmers of light. Long ago I opted for lucent horizons and nothing is going to fade them out. Nothing at all. I have confidence in me and in life; everyday never lets dreamers down, but enliven my luminous prospects.
There are only thirteen days left to preorder «February», my next book. I had done everything to find supporters for this crazy project. After many sleepless nights, I am muffled in peaceful musings. I trust in this book no matter if people back me or not. I know I am on the right track and nothing will prevent me from giving up since I had learnt that nothing makes sense but writing. I must write and write and write because writing is my way of surviving, my way of living. Words chose me once and I had to listen to them, despite my reluctant efforts. I had concealed my feelings for long and dreadful years. No more, no more. Life is exuberant and needs my voice to spread the news; the dreams and hopes hidden out of fear, failure and rejection are now frisky and unmanageable. Refusals and frustrations have no longer power over me. Dismissing consternation is feasible and easier than I ever had thought. It is just a matter of being me, of showing who I am without hesitations; it is also a matter of embracing life and all emotions pertaining existence. How wonderful it is to discover how easily living can be handled with simplicity, enthusiasm and a batch of well-wishes. Hope leaves nihilism behind; hopeful views bring forth joyful hours and make the present thrilling for future does no longer matter, for we are not in thrall to the coming times, for we are at last free. I had learnt that there are no crushing defeats.
After several weeks of douts and fears, I have finally launched a campaign to fund my new book, «February». I was scared to regard this project, for a memoir always means trouble, especially if you write it in a foreign language. I have been trying to put it down in Spanish without success. English gives me more freedom and creates a magic atmosphere crammed with beautiful sounds and strong images that descry my inner soul with extraordinary precision. The heavenly sonority of a foreign language helps to tell the pains and cruelties that also fill life more easily, thus sorrows flow from my keabord as if they were blissful joys. English words are like the whispers of trees that glide over my ears on crisp mornings; English words caress my senses as only summer breezes do.
Given that my connections are mostly Spanish, I am having trouble to reach English readers. Yet, I have not lost my hopes. I still trust in this crazy project for it represents the achievement of my repressed desires, the fulfillment of all my ambitions. «February» is a story about of the complexities of life that also catches the gleam of simplicity and the beauty of everyday. And you can preorder it now
I have miraculously survived the heat wave that has been smashing all-time records. Living and working in my ministudio with thirty degrees has been a sort of adventure. Temperatures are much milder but will increase soon, so I am trying to work as much as possible for I might have to slow down when oppression corners me again like an irate bull. I am not a summer person. And when fields turn to yellowish, I miss the greenness of spring, the breezes, the rain. July is usually a trying month, August is more bearable and September is one of my favorite time of the year for you still feel the laziness of summer, but also the push of the new course, the spark of new projects and desirable intents. Before summertime ends, I intend to shape the first draft of my new book. On account of doubts, fears and setbacks, I had been delaying the writing of my third book. Procrastination only gives me headaches. Working at a slow pace is always better than not working at all. I need more organization and to commit myself to several hours of daily work no matter if circumstances are benevolent or malevolent. More of all, work is the best therapy and there is no better way to overcome doleful events than painting pictures with words.
Lately, I have been suffering all kind of adversities. Aside from my financial difficulties, some members of my family have been attacking me so fiercely and tenaciously that I could hardly breathe. The reason for their unwise obstinacy was the simple fact that I was not conducting myself according to their views. At first, their threats and insults filled me with lively horrors, but now I am at peace. When I calmed down and read those insulting messages more carefully, I clearly saw that they were not really defaming me but the very senders, for they unconsciously had exposed their own weakness; all we say and write always gives valuable information about who we are, what we fear or what we long for. Long years of frustrations and incomprehension end up poisoning hearts and minds and leading to judgmental attitudes, which precisely reflect the way we look at ourselves. We treat others in the same way we treat ourselves. If we do not accept either our own frailties or deficiencies, we will not be able to sympathize with the rest of the world. Behind those words that I have recently received, there is only hatred. Aversion spills secrets crammed with self-loathing and low self-esteem. Take yourself the way you are and you will not not need to spoil your neighbor’s lives.
Lately, I have been spending too much time reading and writing or trying to write at the very least. Lately, I have been living in a hazy atmosphere crammed with thoughts and silent thoughts. When I read, I sometimes say a word out loud and the resonance of my own voice dazes me; it seems unreal, like the muffled sounds of dreams. I am living in a cloud of whispers, in a cloud of dreams and thoughts. When I drive to city or to the supermarket, I remember the hustle and bustle of reality. I have not turned away living. In fact, the verities of life are my best companions in this ministudio where I happen to work and live. Musings bring me closer to humans, to all joys, sorrows and disquiets. Musings are quiet and also musical since they have the everyday singsong melody, the tinkle of the precise routine I need to prevent myself from descending into chaos. Soaking myself in contemplation gives me peace and sometimes a little wisdom. Silence always clears my head and puts me in a pensive mood, in a mood for writing and napping. I feel like if I were not utterly awake despite my perception of beauty and eternity, despite the thrill this world contains.
Easter Sunday always means the beginning of a hopeful and joyful life. Nothing can obscure the dazzling horizon ahead of me, since life, regardless of difficulties, is beauty and truth. Lately, I have been thinking of all my blessings and I can only feel gratitude. Instead of complaining about my troubles, I have been trying to turn them into opportunities, into thrilling challenges where to put my heart and my soul into. I might not succeed at it, but meanwhile I am having a splendid time. You can learn more from disasters than from prosperous times. When anguish is an annoying guest, when everything seems wrong, we tend to ask the same question: “why me?” If we hold to the wrong question, we will get the wrong answer too. Now, instead of using “why me?” as an excuse from my duty of being happy, I reflect on my supposed defeats and look for a more reasonable explanation. Nothing happens for no reason. Every little thing wants to whisper in my ear soft words just to lead me to the path I need to choose to become who I am supposed to be, to do what I always dreamed of. I had seen that path before, but I avoided it on account of my fears. I probably did not have the courage to be happy then. Bliss floods my soul because one day I decided to make a few decisions to grasp my life and left shadows behind.
I have lately spent too much time in the Emergency Room of a close hospital. I have been suffering from two consecutive bronchial infections and several contusions caused by a silly fall. Sidewalks and stairs become ice-skating rinks on foggy days, and fog has been a devoted and faithful companion since winter settled down. Sickness makes me regard things more shadowy and menacing. 2014 was the worst year of my life without a doubt. 2015 has not had a good start either. When grieve overtakes you for a very long time, vision blurs and even conduct lapses. Some people do not ever recover from hardships if they are too extreme. Mines have been incredibly severe. Living with destituion for two long years has not been a pleasant experience. I will never forget what I have been through. Never. I had always had a weakness for beggars and vagrants. Now they own the best room of my inner house, the most spacious, sunny and cozy. Despite misfortune, my hopes and strength have been miraculously restored. There is still a long way of obstacles and defeats ahead, but life has a lot to offer me even if sometimes cheats me with shadows.
For first time in years I am enjoying Christmas. It is neither painful nor lonesome nor a disquieting time, but a perfect blend of magic, warmth and peace. One of the best gifts of this year has been my ministudio. I moved here on November 15, when my former life was over and a new one started to spread before me despite my wails and my stubborn rejection. A friend invited to spend a few days at her condo. After a couple of days in a huge and comfortable apartment with a splendid view of the city, I missed my little place. When I came back, I saw this ministudio with different eyes. There was beauty here, there was love. The surroundings were neither dreary nor monotonous, but magnificent. And, suddenly this tiny thing with its coldness and inconveniences became my home, the thing I most needed and the place where I wanted to be. Unconsciously attached to it, I was afraid of embracing it. Acceptance meant turning away from my old house, the one I recently lost. Now I gaze at my studio with tenderness and gratitude. It is just a room, but it is of my own. A room of freedom and words, a shelter from wintry attitudes, a cozy abode to await a life of my own, where only my decisions and mistakes carry weight.
«A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction. » Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own.
I have finally started to feel this place as my own. My old house keeps popping up in my dreams; sometimes the bad dreams plunge me in panic, and fear and frost often wake me up in the nighttime. A couple of friends brought me from my storage a blender, a beautiful crèche and a winter quilt. Temperatures have dropped and nights are cold. After inquiring, I have found the way to heat the studio; neither cheap nor as expensive as I had thought. This morning, while listening to Albeniz’s music and tidying up the apartment, I felt serenity for first time since I moved here. There was even sweetness in the air of this teeny room where bed and kitchen live like lovers, always close one to another; nothing better than proximity to valentines. I was cast out from my home and unprovided for a new life. Somehow things are coming into order. This harmony was already within myself despite my despair and unawareness, everything I needed was with me and in me. Life seems brighter even if shadows still dance in the moonless cold. Strength always comes back to brave the storm. Time will heal my wounds and mollify the pain of my recent loss.